


Touch Sensitive

by Enide_Dear



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, its good but also a bit scary, prompto is so unused to a friendly touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 10:07:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11311146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enide_Dear/pseuds/Enide_Dear
Summary: Prompto likes touch but....not from Noctis. Or does he?





	Touch Sensitive

Prompto liked touch.   
   
He liked when Gladio put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in for a short hug, even though the sheer size of the arm made him feel like a scrawny chicken. It was strong and it was friendly and it made Prompto feel all warm inside.  
   
And he liked it when Ignis stood behind him, a firm hand on his, to show him how to cut vegetable or meat and prepare dinner, the other man’s breath tingling the short hairs on the nape of his neck. The calm and competence of the advisor made him feel relaxed and safe.   
   
He didn’t like when Noctis touched him, though. Noctis’ touch was too intense. Maybe he still had residual magic in his fingertips or something, because when the prince’s fingers brushed against his arms, it felt like being hit with fire, ice and lightning all at once. He shied away instinctively but always a few seconds too late; the touch seemed to linger for hours, the fire spreading from it making him tingly and wobbly inside, not at all like the comforting touches of Gladio or Ignis.   
   
It was too much. It was messing with his mind.  
   
He had tried to get to sleep between Ignis and Gladio when they camped, or even between one of them and the drafty tent cloth, but they both insisted on taking the more exposed positions, leaving the two youngest in the safer space between them.   
   
Prompto had quickly snuggled down as close to Gladio as he could, his back towards the prince, his eyes firmly shut.   
   
It had been a mistake.   
   
   
Noctis arm was around his waist now, his chest pressed against Prompto’s back, skin against bare skin because the nights were warm in the dustbowl that was Leide. The soft breath between his shoulder blades turned Prompto’s skin into goosebumps. The warm arm around him radiated lightning through his body.  
   
Prompto’s very soul seemed on fire.   
   
He couldn’t close his eyes and all he saw in the darkness was the contour of Gladio’s shoulder like a bulky shadow and from across the tent he could hear Ignis mumbling in his sleep, but those were far off, unimportant sensory inputs.   
   
All he was was sense.   
   
The sensation of Noct’s strong heart thumping against his back.  
   
The sensation of soft skin rubbing against his and the warmth building between them.   
   
The sensation of sword callused fingers entwining with his.   
   
He wasn’t even sure Noct was asleep. Wasn’t sure this was the innocence of a dreamer lost to the world, or someone conscious of their behavior.   
   
He didn’t know which he wanted it to be more.   
   
Sleep was impossible; his mind and body was tingling with sensation and every minute change in positions sent a new jolt through him. It wasn’t bad but it was….intense. He wasn’t used to touch, not this much touch, not touch that sent sparkles flying through his blood.   
   
It felt like going over the edge of a roller coaster, giddiness and fear all rolled up in one.   
   
Noct hummed contently deep in his throat and Prompto realized he had edged closer to the prince. Now they were as snug together as two spoons in a drawer, skin against skin against skin all the way.   
   
Prompt felt like crying. He felt like laughing. It was the single most intense situation of his life and it was almost too much.  
   
Or maybe not enough. Lips pressed almost chastely between his shoulder blades and then Noct put his chin on Prompto’s freckled shoulder and closed his eyes, falling asleep if he hadn’t been asleep before. He was a warm, relaxed, comfortable weight next to Prompto, cheek against his cheek and breaths mingled.   
   
A warmth that had nothing to do with the hot night or sweaty skin bubbled up inside Prompto, flooded through his limbs, wiped away old tensions he didn’t know he had and left him limp and utterly content in its wake.   
   
He pressed closer to the sleeping prince. Entwining their callused fingers. And he fell asleep.   
 


End file.
